Archive for the ‘My Mother’ Category

Venting …from my journal

Posted: September 30, 2011 in My Mother, The Real Me

September 30, 2011

I will never be who or what they evidently want me to be. I am not an imbecile, though they treat me so. I am not naive, though they think my defense of the faith and of the faithful is clear proof of it. I am not on their side, though by my choice to remain moderately silent to keep the peace, they may still hold out hope. I do not look up to them or respect them much, though their haughty condescension reveals an assumption to that effect. I do not desire or ever look forward to any interaction with them, though they keep acting like I owe them my time. I owe them. I didn’t choose them — I came last. I suffered for her choice; I suffer now for their condescension and expectation. Somehow, I have earned what has, thus far, proven to be the life-long punishment of always being treated like a naive, child-like imbecile who needs instruction — constant instruction — in every facet of life. I am 28 — 29 in two weeks — not claiming to be especially wise, but asserting that I’m not exceptionally green, either. I survived her hellish choices that served to really screw everything up, and I went to college on my own dime. Graduated with honors. Been a teacher for over five years and married a doctor, whom I’ve been with for nigh on a decade now. (I’m still happily married, too, despite their inclination to call this amazing man my “first husband.”) I aspire to do everything, and I want to make a difference. I work hard, I teach my students to work hard, and I plan to teach my children to work hard. To realize that the world doesn’t owe them. To be decent, charitable, responsible people, because that’s what I try so hard to be. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m a naive child; I’m an imbecile. They are in charge even in my own home, and they rank even above my husband — the one who outshines the lot of us — and they are brazen and unapologetic, feeling entitled due to their age, or perhaps their hard knock lives. It doesn’t matter. I could get 72 graduate degrees, save Africa, and pay off our national debt — I’d still be a child unworthy of respect. They mock me, and they always will. I’m ashamed to admit that I’d be thrilled to never, ever see them again as long as I live. I’d like them to move away, find a Christian they actually respect (ha!), get saved, and meet me in heaven where Jesus could be a mediator. My heart and my head and my blood pressure just can’t handle them. And we’ve only been back here for 3 months. It’s gonna be a long life. Help. I am a terrible, dark-hearted person sometimes, I know. But really, I’m not an imbecile.¬†

You know, unexpected because I don’t write anymore. But, I have lots to say. Do we still do those random, Cheeto Thursdays? It’s not Thursday, I know, and I don’t have a picture of Cheetos… (though I do have a bag of them right next to me — really!) But, I’m still going to write a bunch of unrelated, though actually pretty related, things. For all 0.7 of you who still have me on your Reader. ūüėÄ

  1. I miss blogging, but I don’t. I miss having something external — ie: readers — that keeps me accountable. I knew you expected me to write, so I wrote. No one expects it now, so I don’t. At all. (Except in my journal.) I don’t miss blogging, though, because NOT being a slave to my blog reader really has opened up life for me exactly the way I hoped it would when I made the sacrifice. I’ve been able to live more fully and with less stress, because I had time to live and the ability to let my brain fully engage in whatever I was doing. Before, I’d hurry through life while trying to pick up on quick ideas to write about and then get to writing. That’s no way to live, even for a writer.
  2. At the same time, a writer needs to write. Not being able to, or — since it’s now fully summer and I should be honest — not having the discipline or strength of mind to make myself, presents stressors of its own. I feel all bottled up, like I’m missing out on something I should be doing.
  3. I don’t know how to have balance.
  4. I am on the edge of depression, and I really think it’s a spiritual warfare thing. God is good, and He has me reading the Psalms. His Spirit comforts me and reminds me to Whom I need to be listening. While David was probably describing his trials with physical enemies with guns (well, bows and spears or whatever), I read his writings and recognize my spiritual enemies. These spiritual forces are whispering lies to me all the time, and it’s really, really, really hard not to believe them. I have a few reasons:
  5. It is true that money is very tight. It is true that if I could get a job (we just moved to a new city for my husband’s job), then money wouldn’t be so tight. It is true that if I don’t get a job for this upcoming school year, things might be even more tough. But is it true that this is my fault? I teeter between yes and no, but I believe that the enemy is telling me yes, calling me worthless, but the Father is telling me no, calling me His.
  6. It is true that my family needs Jesus. It is true that I, for the most part, have done a horrible job of being Jesus to them. Is it true that there is no hope and I’m a miserable failure who should just give up? I teeter between yes and no, but… you get the picture.
  7. It is true that I am a little lonely. It is true that I miss my friends, and that I want to¬†regularly¬†see people I know and know that they love me and are praying for me. That I want to see their faces and hug their necks, but they are too far away. I feel so alone, and I can’t stand being alone right now… it’s just too lonely and sad, but I can’t do a whole lot about it right now. Is it true that because of this, I am unfriendable and that no one likes me? It seems silly to teeter between yes and no on that one, but I do.
  8. It is true, although it seems odd coming just after #7, that I really need some alone time. My husband’s first day of work is not until August 1. We’re here all day together, and I have a very hard time creating alone time for myself (though DH totally supports me in this — don’t misread) because I can’t seem to focus on anything if anyone’s in the house. I am distracted by things that need to be done and the reality that he’s waiting for me to finish up so that I can go live life. If no one is home, I can ignore those things and focus on the fact that I need the alone time to refuel, which will in turn help me to live life. If people are home, I struggle to have meaningful alone time; it’s like I’m rushing through. ¬†While all of this is true, is it true that wanting alone time is selfish? Shouldn’t I enjoy this time with my husband–this time that we haven’t had because of med school and then residency? Well, I do. I am actually really eating it all up — I adore him, and spending time with him is still my favorite thing, even after nearly a decade together. So, maybe this is selfish (and perhaps a bit psychotic)? Yes…no…maybe…
  9. It is true that my mind is wonky and that I can’t get my life straight and that I’m really not any better at the balancing act than I was when I quit the blog. Does that make me a worthless failure whom God is aggravated at for being so stupid? NO. (But sometimes I’m afraid yes.)
  10. How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide Your face from me? How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart all the day? How long will my enemy be exalted over me? Consider and answer me, O LORD, my God; enlighten my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death, lest my enemy say, “I have overcome him,” lest my adversaries rejoice when I am shaken. But I have trusted in Your lovingkindness; my heart shall rejoice in Your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, because He has dealt bountifully with me. (Psalm 13)
~LG

This was a busy weekend because we went up to our hometown — mostly for David’s 30th birthday. ¬†It was exciting because I actually pulled off a surprise! ¬†We went to a baseball game with David’s family, but I had arranged for a bunch of his college friends to be sitting with us, too. ¬†It worked — he was surprised and very excited to see all of his friends! ¬†Saturday was a stressful day, because we also had to visit with my mom and my sister’s family. ¬†We are in a pickle with them, because visiting at one of their houses is always really uncomfortable and never-ending; it’s hard to find a good time to leave, even when it’s evident that we still have nothing in common and thus nothing to say. ¬†We’ve taken to suggesting restaurants instead, because there’s a natural stopping point. ¬†However, it’s embarrassing. ¬†I really feel awful being embarrassed of my family, but I am. ¬†They are openly rude and insulting to people, and it’s just awful. ¬†I just feel like I should go behind them and apologize to strangers for their rudeness. ¬†I don’t, usually, because it can make an awkward situation even worse. ¬†But I really don’t know how to handle it when people in my party are rude to the waitstaff, or audibly express disgust that the table of Mexicans next to us should learn English, or loudly make comments about the sexual orientation of two men not three feet from us. ¬†What should I do? ¬†It’s really, really horrible, and I hate it. ¬†Reasoning with my family is fruitless. ¬†Any visible discomfort on my part invites combative and provoking comments. ¬†Total silence suggests agreement. ¬†Perhaps we should just go back to meeting at someone’s house to spare innocent bystanders. ¬†On another note, school starts tomorrow for teachers. ¬†I was pretty down in the dumps over it all week, mostly because I feel like my summer was wasted. ¬†Today, however, I’ve resigned to the inevitable, and I’m actually excited to see some of my friends. ¬†That’s a start! ¬†I really want to be intentional about forming relationships this year, because I am very isolated because of the subject I teach. ¬†It’s time to focus on making it a good year!

A Snapshot in Time

Posted: July 6, 2010 in My Mother

Gosh I think she’s lovely. ¬†Absolutely beautiful. ¬†You can’t see them here, but she has piercing blue eyes. ¬†The age and finish of this photo mask her sparkling smile, but I trust that you can imagine it coming to life. ¬†She’s got freckles, too; lots and lots of them. ¬†I’ve always been lukewarm about my own sun sprinkles, but she sure is gorgeous in hers.

What for personality? ¬†Friendly and very funny. ¬†Very, very artistic and creative, but not a weirdo about it. ¬†Likes fishing and playing pool. ¬†Oh, and wearing fake eyelashes with lots of eye liner. ¬†(That was when it was in style and quite normal.) ¬†She is a guy’s girl, but always in a full face of makeup.

This is my mommy.  But not yet.

Sometimes, hanging out in the past is a nice thing.

~LG

Irony of Ironies…

Posted: May 14, 2010 in My Mother

Junkmail from my mother:

.

.

.

[bouquet of pretty purple flowers here; blogger is too lazy to insert]

There comes a point in your life when you realize:

Who matters,
Who never did,
Who won’t anymore…
And who always will.
So, don’t worry about people from your past,
there’s a reason why they didn’t make it to your future.
Give these flowers to everyone you don’t want to lose in 2010
Including me, if that’s what is in your heart.
Try to collect
8 ; it’s not easy!

.

.

.

Wait… what? ¬†Forgiveness? ¬†Letting go? ¬†Not holding grudges?

My name is Lainie… It’s nice to meet you.

~LG

Why I Still Send Gifts

Posted: May 10, 2010 in My Mother

My mother and I have been on a cycle of talking and then not talking for years now. ¬†No need to go into it here, but it’s a pretty predictable pattern. ¬†I’m banking on the birth of my first child [not any time soon] being the start-up of the next silent period. ¬†Even during the “talking” periods, however, it’s still strained and awkward. ¬†That’s part of why I¬†so intensely dislike Mother’s Day.

Even so, I still send gifts. ¬†Even when she’s not talking to me. ¬†I want her to know that I have not forgotten her. ¬†Sending gifts during these times often backfires… Like last time when she kept returning everything and then “yelling” at me on the envelope/box for making her pay the postage. ¬†That made me cry every time, but I kept doing it.

Some would say it’s a waste of money, time, and hurt feelings. ¬†That could be true. ¬†I’ve often reminded God of those points as well. ¬†I’ve told Him on many occasions that all of this is simply unfair, and that I didn’t ask for any of it. ¬†I’ve told Him I’d be perfectly happy to never see or hear from my family ever again.

In response to my honesty, He was silent.  That was my answer.

You see, I’m absolutely terrible at being a witness to my family. ¬†There’s so much unspoken and unresolved junk that I am always on my guard. ¬†I am not the daughter/sister I should be simply because I don’t think they deserve it. ¬†God has shown me that I’m right about that much, but He’s also shown me that my response is sinful. ¬†Giving gifts and making obligatory phone calls is my way of trying to be who I should be, whether they deserve it or not. ¬†I’m still praying that God will change my heart and make me “feel” it more sincerely.

In the meantime, I try desperately to fight back my own, easily justified desires. ¬†That usually means flowers and a phone call on Mother’s Day. ¬†And guess what? ¬†I survived them both.

…but don’t even get me started on the step-mother.

~LG

  1. I get why you exist — to sell flowers and such. ¬†Great business idea.
  2. I get why you’re so hugely successful — there are some amazing mothers out there who deserve all the recognition and appreciation possible. ¬†(And the guilt factor involved undoubtedly makes you at least twice as successful as you would have been otherwise.)
  3. I don’t get why we’re all obligated to you. ¬†It’s wrong, and I hate you for it.

Did you know that less-than-stellar moms still expect gifts on this “holiday”? ¬†It’s like they feel entitled when they haven’t necessarily earned such an honor.

It has nothing to do with caring or not caring about one’s mother; it’s that it shouldn’t be someone’s business (literally) to interfere in a personal relationship and attach a certain level of significance and appreciation that could be ill-fitting with¬†the situation and history. ¬†It’s not right, and it kind of irritates me every year.

But, I don’t want to hurt her feelings. ¬†So the flowers are on their way.

~LG